


The One With(out) The Nudist Resort

by Iocane



Series: Fuckin' Rich People [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Body Horror, Cold Showers, Feelings, HFN ending, Hank has self esteem issues, Kendoll Connor, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), References to Depression, References to suicidal ideation, Title Changed, android body horror, angst but they're adult about it, but i'm tagging both to be safe, connor plays hank like a fiddle, handjob, just shenanigans because of a nudist resort, references to alcoholism, resort WILL be in the sequel though, the only body horror is android body horror, there's not actually a nudist resort, they've got a long way to go before HEA, until he isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:32:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15581040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: The Captain sends Connor and Hank on an undercover case at a local nudist resort (fuckin' rich people.)Connor dives in to the preparations.Hank is in absolute twink hell.





	The One With(out) The Nudist Resort

**Author's Note:**

> The body horror is a Connor's POV section of getting the modifications, and some are internal so he gets taken apart. There's no pain, and only very minimal thirium-gore, but it goes into some detail about what exactly is being changed. Connor is not really bothered by any of it, but it could be upsetting, especially if you're not prepared.
> 
> If you do want to skip it, when you get to the POV switch to Connor after they get to the Cyberlife offices, just ctrl F for +++++ and jump to the next segment. The imporant changes are vaguely outlined in a conversation following the procedure.

"Lieutenant, will you help me choose my genitals?" Hank choked on his coffee, inhaling sharply at the chirpy-voiced question out of the blue.

"Excuse me, WHAT?" he asked, wiping coffee from his beard and glaring bleary eyed at the far-too-fucking-sober looking Android sitting oh-so primly in the seat beside him.

"For the case. The Captain informed us of the details when you arrived."

Hank blinked, reaching back through the haze of a hangover. "We're … going undercover," he said, doing his best not to make it a question.

"Yes. At the AsUR Resort. Removing my LED will of course be required but I'll need more extensive modifications. I need human genitals."

"Why do you-?" Hank stopped as his brain finally caught up with the situation. AsUR. As You Are. Famous - or notorious - nudist resort. As out of place in Detroit's climate as a ski lift in Florida, but that was part of the appeal. It was in a climate controlled dome so perverts could wander around in their birthday suits in the middle of February. "Aw shit," he sighed, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. "Why did I fucking agree to this?" The problem of Connor's genitals, or apparent lack thereof, was forgotten in the wake of realizing *he* would also be naked. His saggy ass and beer belly. And grey chest hair.

"You didn't agree, in fact you said very little when we were assigned the case. Rather, you mostly growled. I surmised it was due to your hangover. That doesn't change the fact that I need-"

"A new dick, right."

"So your suggestion would be male genitalia?" Connor asked curiously, sounding far too enthused.

"What? Why not? How the fuck should I know?" Feeling a bit more together, Hank tried another sip of his coffee, glad he managed it without Connor dropping another bomb on him. "You look like a guy, you'd have to change more than what's below the belt to pass as female, Connor," he pointed out, pulling himself off his thoughts about his own body and firmly back onto Connor's.

"That wouldn't be difficult," Connor's voice was decidedly more feminine, and a sidelong peek almost had Hank choking again. He couldn't pinpoint exactly how but Connor looked more feminine as well. Not beautiful by any stretch but he knew plenty of women who looked that masculine or more. 

"Why would that even be an option?" He asked, trying to deflect from the strangeness of the situation.

"The most logical guise for the undercover mission is that of a married couple. I could see no paraphernalia indicating a homosexual lifestyle in your home."

"Didn't look under the bed, then," Hank muttered into his coffee, taking several swallows before he sighed. "You don't have to girl it up, Connor, I got no problem playing happy families with a cute guy. I'm gonna look like a dirty old perv with you on my arm but fuck it, I *am* one so why the fuck not?"

"That's … a relief?" Connor's voice sounded almost questioning, but in true Connor fashion he barreled on before Hank could process it. "What size penis do you prefer on your male lovers?"

Hank just sighed. "You really *have* changed, Connor," he commented. In response to the android's silently raised eyebrow, he continued. "You don't even bother with 'Lieutenant, can I ask a personal question?' you just jump right in with both fucking feet."

If Hank didn't know any better, and he wasn't sure he did, he'd swear Connor smiled at that. "The direct approach seems to work well with you."

"Alright. Fair enough. Why do my tastes matter, anyway? Just get what you want."

"If we're to be posing as intimates, and since I have no preference, it seems logical and advantageous that I match to your tastes. Unless you … would prefer marriage to someone you don't find attractive?"

Hank suspected he was being played. He was certain of it. But he couldn't argue Connor's point. He gave Connor a look, assessing, really giving him a good onceover. What the hell, he was already a twink. "On the smaller side," he finally growled. It might all be for pretend, but he wasn't gonna give up the chance of having people think he got to tap - and top - *that* every night of the week. And the man did have a nice ass. 

Later, Hank realized he didn't even put up a token protest at the assumption that he already found Connor attractive.

"Approximately what measurements? I can notify the modification center and have them ready later today."

"Measurements? Connor I don't take a ruler to every guy I sleep with. Especially not when I'm the one doing the fucking." He put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?"

"Home. I can't give you inches or centimeters but I can give you a few pictures to work with," He was too old to be really embarrassed by it all, but his stomach did give a little clench at showing Connor his porn stash. Something about the little shit had him opening up in ways he hadn't expected. He'd put it down to programming if he hadn't seen the differences in the two Connors at Cyberlife. Even before the questions, he had his suspicions that *this* Connor was the right one.

The drive was fairly quiet, and Hank soon let them into his house. Almost out of habit, Connor went right to Sumo, petting and cooing at the large dog, then going to feed him. Maybe he wanted to give Hank some privacy, or maybe he was just continuing his campaign to slowly steal the affections of his (former!) best friend.

Leaving the door to his bedroom open, Hank rustled around under his bed, finding the surprisingly dusty shoebox. He still rubbed one out a few times a week - or had until his new roommate had arrived. But he hadn't realized it'd been so long since he actually looked through his porn. He didn't even know why he still hid it. 

Except maybe he did, he admitted to himself as he sat on the bed and opened up the box. A few years old now, the magazines covers - and all the pictures within - were of strapping young men. The sort he used to be able to sleep with but hadn't managed in more than a few years. It just got depressing having the reminders around the house. Hence why they were in a box under his bed like he was some fap-happy fifteen year old hiding from the 'rents.

Trying not to feel the weight of his years, he flipped through the glossy pictures, finding a few that were the most appealing, the ones that looked like they'd fit nicely against the palm of his hand, even when hard. Showers, not growers.

After tearing half dozen or so pages out of the magazines, he stuffed the rest of it back into the box. "Connor, c'mere," he called as he stood, kicking the box back under the bed.

Connor arrived wiping his hands dry with a tea towel he'd insisting on buying when he found out Hank didn't have any. "Yes?"

"Not any of these exactly, but something like them," he said, pressing the pages into Connor's hands as he brushed past him on his way out of the bedroom. "I'm gonna take a shower." A really fucking cold one.

+++++

Connor watched Hank depart, giving him a brief scan and compiling the data as he looked down at the old fashioned magazine pages in his hands. Hank's stress was high, as was his heart rate, but not as high as it was regularly in the first days of their acquaintance. Connor felt no small amount of pride when he compared the data and confirmed that Hank's overall stress had been slowly dropping since he began cohabitating with the detective. He was still, in Hanks own words a "grumpy old motherfucker" but the longer Connor knew him, the more he realized it was mostly an act to keep the world at bay.

Trust Hank to have actual physical magazine porn instead of something more interactive. A smile played at his lips as he recalled Hanks rant in their very early days, about how no one read physical books any more. All of the pages were strangely stiff in a few places and without thinking about it, Connor gave one such stiff patch a brief lick. 

Semen. 100% match. Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Degradation: 7+ years.

A strange warmth curled in his stomach and Connor felt it rising on his cheeks as well. He tried to analyze it, comparing the reaction to a database of emotional descriptions provided by other Deviants. Embarrassment? Sexual arousal? It was easier to detect emotions in humans. Aside from facial expressions, they usually emitted chemical signals that were detectable to androids.

Sorting out his own emotions was an entirely different matter, and Connor did what he'd been doing almost since the moment he went Deviant. Putting the matter aside to ponder later. For now, his main mission was the case. And that meant preparation for it. And that meant passing as a human without his clothes. And that meant …

He absently fingered one of the stiff spots as he carefully scanned each image of male genitals, then sent the information to the now-fully-android-run CyberLife offices, along with his own skin tone and hair color specifications. 

He had been curious, in an absent sort of way, what it would be like to have more than a smooth plate under his pants. A query came back as he set the pages on the bed.

Full human exterior requested? Y/N

Y

Internal components? Y/N

A return query

Purpose/Function of Internal Components?

Humanlike consumption/elimination of sustenance, including human foods. Simulated fluid emissions.

Passing as human would require he at least be able to seem to eat. He could consume small quantities of food and drink now, but he had to regurgitate it within a few hours or it would begin to rot inside his system. Also, he couldn't consume blue blood at the same time, as they would mix and render the blood unusable. With an internal nod, he answered.

Internal components: Y

He followed it up with a note that he'd just take all the options on offer, figuring if he didn't need it for the case, he'd need it at some point. And it would save him trips to Cyberlife. Despite it being fully under the control of his kind now, he still felt - and this was one emotion he didn't need help with - a little scared returning to the building. It was the main reason he was going to ask Hank to accompany him.

As confusing and unexplored as his emotions about the human were, one thing he wouldn't and didn't want to ignore or reject is that the human made him feel safe. Despite the fact that shortly after their first meeting, Connor had been met with physical aggression at Hanks hands. And despite the fact that by any physical metric, Connor was by far the superior specimen. None of that mattered in the face of the fact that when Connor was around Hank, he wasn't as afraid.

Parameters accepted. Modifications will be ready for installation at 11.37 am

Preview? Y/N

N

Connor really didn't care what he looked like, though the fact that it would be pleasing to Hank caused a resurgence of that warmth, accompanied by a brief quicking of his pump. Probably not embarrassment, then. 

Shelving his tangle of emotions once more, Connor returned to the kitchen and finished tidying up. He heard the water stop and knew Hank would be out in a few minutes. As sort of a peace offering for interrupting his coffee earlier, and putting him through this, he had a large travel mug of coffee ready for Hank. He'd added as much sugar as he knew the man liked, despite the fact that it was unhealthy, and if Hank continued this way he would become diabetic within a year. It was surprising to Connor that he wasn't already. 

Mug on the table, Connor sat in one of the kitchen chairs, hands resting on his thighs, LED flashing yellow as he reviewed the case files. 

+++++

Hank shut off the icy water and sighed, glad he'd finally gotten *that* out of the way. Grabbing a towel, he dried off and re-dressed in the pants he had earlier. Leaving his chest bare, he dried his hair as he returned to the bedroom. Seeing the pages on the bed, he let out a slightly depressed sigh and picked a clean shirt, one that didn't have coffee all over it.

Ready(ish) to face the world again, he stepped into the kitchen. Connor was sitting in his chair, looking entirely too prim and proper. Gonna have to get him out of that habit, he sat like Hank's Gamma. "You there, Connor?" he asked, picking up the mug and taking a sip. It was surprisingly sweet, pretty much exactly how he liked it. And therefore twice as much sugar as Connor usually put into the coffee he made for Hank. "Thanks for the coffee," he couldn't keep the suspicion out of his voice. If they'd had anything like a fight, or even a tiff, he'd take the coffee as an effort to make up. But they hadn't.

"I'm here," Connor said, his LED blinking from yellow to blue as he lifted his head and smiled at Hank. Then to Hank's surprise, his smile fell, his eyes dropped and his hands shifted from resting on his thighs to clasped. He knew the breath taken by the android was for show, but it seemed to have the same effect on him as it did on a human. "I would like to ask a favor of you, Lieutenant."

"Connor, if we're gonna do the whole fake married trope, you gotta start calling me Hank."

"Hank," Connor said with a nod and Hank really liked the way it rolled off his tongue, weird voice or not. "Would you accompany me into the CyberLife offices and monitor my modification?"

"I thought your people owned CyberLife now?" he asked even as he nodded.

"They do. But I don't feel entirely … safe inside the building. I went there once right after, you remember. To shut down certain circuits. It was … unpleasant, even with Markus there." He'd gone to have Amanda's access shut down, closing that particular back door for good. Connor was still looking at his hands.

Hank was surprised at the admission. He wasn't surprised at some of it - Hank wasn't exactly warm and fuzzy about going back to the same building where - whatever the circumstances had been - he had shot someone he cared about. Or at least something that wore the face of someone he cared about. And he still had nightmares about it. But that he wanted Hank there? An old, worn out human made him feel safer than the great Markus himself?

"Sure, Connor," he finally said softly. "Whatever you need. When do you need to go?" he asked.

"The modifications will be ready in approximately twenty minutes."

"Never gonna get used to how fast you guys work," Hank said, taking another swallow of coffee. "Come on, don't want you to be late," he shrugged on his coat and headed out to the car.

The drive through the city was quiet, but it was a weighty silence that Hank didn't feel right filling with music. This felt like Connor's time, and if Connor wanted music, he could turn it on himself. Pulling into the parking lot, he took a few more swallows of his coffee and poured the rest into the snow, knowing it would be unpleasantly cold by the time they got back.

Now that Connor had expressed it, Hank thought he could see the nervousness in him. His steps were a bit more precise, and slower than usual. "Come on," he said, resting a hand on Connor's shoulder. "It'll be okay," he hoped encouraging was the way to go. In case it wasn't, he added, "You know, we can probably find some way around you doing this, I can get us off the case, maybe."

At that, Connor straightened, not abruptly but drawing himself up. "I appreciate the offer Lie-Hank," he said with a small smile. "But in addition to the genital modification, there are some others I'm going to have applied as well. They will be beneficial if I'm to integrate at all into human society. If they aren't helpful for this case, they will be for others."

"Alright." He gave his shoulder a squeeze and reluctantly took his hand away as they strode into the building. He wondered if Connor knew how much tension he was projecting with every step deeper into the offices. Or was it just that Hank knew him well enough to tell the difference between slightly-stiff-android-walking or tense-as-fuck-partner walking?

Since they were expected, they were lead to one of the modification rooms by an android that looked uncannily like Simon, but according to the name badge, was Jacob. Every time Hank saw things like that, he was glad Connor was unique.

The lab was scary even for a human to see. There was a small platform surrounded by half a dozen robotic arms. And arrayed on a table beside them were several mounds of what looked like flesh that Hank did not want to think about.

"If you'll stand here," Jacob said to Connor, nodding to the platform. Then he turned to Hank. "This can be disturbing for humans, if you would like to wait," he gestured to an open door with comfortable looking chairs on the far side.

"I'll stay," He felt his stomach might turn inside out but he'd promised Connor. Who still hadn't moved from Hank's side. Impulsively, Hank reached to squeeze the soft hand. "It'll be okay," he promised quietly. "I'm staying right here." 

Connor nodded, his fingers curling around Hanks in a way that made his heart clutch a little. "A-actually. Would you mind-" Connor nodded to the room. "I'm not sure I want you to watch me get … taken apart," he said.

Fuck. Hank didn't want that either. He already had nightmares about it, he didn't want to have actual memories to make them even more vivid. But he'd promised, and Connor's well being was more important than his own - Connor would, after all, last a long longer than him. "I'll stay if you need me to, Con," he said quietly, still holding his hand.

"If I need you, I'll call." He rested a hand on Hank's chest where he kept his phone. "Thank you for coming this far," he said before stepping away.

Hank's hand felt cold when no longer holding Connors and after one last look, he went to sit in the waiting room. The door was frosted so he couldn't get a clear look but he could see well enough to see Connor's dark grey blob climb onto the platform. Then his leg began to bounce in nervous anticipation, and he hadn't felt anything like this anxious about a medical outcome since Cole- he shut that thought right the fuck down. He didn't need to be thinking about him right now, he had more pressing matters. 

+++++

Connor had fully intended to have Hank stay in the room. Then, on the way up, he'd realized what he was actually asking of him. Hank still got upset when Connor drew his skin back to reveal his plastic chassis. He didn't want to subject him to the sight of his insides being messed with. And, if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to remind Hank quite so vividly that Connor wasn't human. Alive, yes. Sentient, absolutely. A person, for sure. But not human. Plastic and thirium, not flesh and blood.

Once the door closed, stepped up onto the platform and removed his clothes. At Jacob's request, he tapped his LED and withdrew his flesh. Then the robotic arms went to work. His torso plates were removed and one arm slid up the cavity to connect to his pump and thirium reservoir. One of the lumps of flesh formed into a stomach and intestine analogue and was attached to the pump, removing the reservoir entirely. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor could see it on a tray, inert and covered in thirium, and he looked away quickly. It reminded him too much of a case where humans were being disected, their organs laid out on the bed beside them.

Once the internal organs were adjusted and added, Connor's chest was sealed up again, but he only felt marginally less vulnerable. Nothing felt different yet, not really. He had been told that upgraded sensations would be the final addition. 

Next came his groin plate. The smooth, featureless plastic was removed and discarded in favor of one bearing several holes and some short tubes. The tubes were connected to some of the new plumbing before the new plate was fastened into place. Again, nothing felt quite different, but he could swear the stomach that hadn't been activated yet was nevertheless fluttering.

Unlike Markus and the pleasure models, Connor's chest was as featureless as his groin had been, so his skin was once again deployed over his body so it could be modified and essentially reprogrammed. His nipples were small and dark and his navel was likewise small and tucked inward. Based on the preferences displayed in the pictures provided, Connor opted against chest hair, beyond a small 'treasure trail' from his newly installed navel to his equally new pubic hair. The smallish cock and balls were connected to the tubes in his new groin plate and carefully attached. 

At Jacob's prompting, Connor once again vanished his flesh, and the new genitals slid up and away, leaving him looking little different than before. Since that was working, there was one final adjustment.

His rear was built differently, with less of the shape coming from plastic and more from his skin. A hunch told him he didn't want to replace anything, just modify what was there. It was the trickiest part for that reason, and reserved for the last of the physical modifications.

The cheeks were pried apart and Connor turned off his sensors at the first touch, though he knew what was happening. His flesh and plastic were drilled through, and a small arm attached it to the previously installed stomach and intestinal organ. Some more flesh was added, to stimulate muscles, giving him a functional anus.

And now the fun began. Working backwards, new sensations were turned on, one area at a time. He experimented with sphincter control, learning what 'full' felt like, and how to work the muscles to eliminate. Then his genitals, they installed and activated subroutines that would allow him to engorge or soften the material at will. And optional subroutines to allow for automatic responses to external or internal stimuli.

He tried the manual controls, watching himself get hard, then soft, but he didn't feel any particular sensations yet. Then he did and actually let out a gasp as the kicked in. Being hard felt … uncomfortable. But good. He quickly disabled his erection for now.

His belly and nipples were turned on and he felt the slight chill more sharply over his whole body now, feeling, for the first time ... naked. He'd always had sensory input as far as temperature and texture and other things went, but he'd never *felt* them anything like this before.

Finally his throat was fully activated and he could feel the slight difference in swallowing now. Before it had been a largely external move, something to put humans at ease. But now he was actually doing something with his throat, learning how to push things down it, further than the thirium reservoir had gone.

Finally the robot arms stilled and Jacob told him he could dismount the platform and dress. When Jacob asked if he should recall the human, Connor was disoriented enough from the new sensations to agree before realizing he was completely naked. 

+++++

Hank hadn't even had time to work up a really good case of nerves when the door popped open. They couldn't be done, so something was wrong. "Connor-" he hopped from his chair, darting into the lab and skidding to a halt at the gorgeous young man standing buck naked before him.

Slender legs, firm thighs meeting and topped with a nest of dark brown curls, and resting in the nest was a small cock - with foreskin he couldn't help but notice - and balls. He didn't know if the navel was new or not, or the nipples but they both looked extremely fucking good. And Connor's face, a blue flush to his skin as he stood under Hank's intense gaze.

"Is it good?" Connor asked softly and Hank realized he'd been staring like a perv and hadn't said a damn thing.

"It's … really fucking good," he admitted with a nod. "I thought there was some trouble, it's only been-" he eyed his watch "Five minutes?" He tried to keep his gaze off of Connor now that he'd been jarred out of his near trance. And eyeing the robotic arms and the eerily thirium caked parts on the tray near them helped to quash his erection.

"We do our work very quickly," Jacob injerected and Hank was sure he picked up a trace of malice, along with the smugness. "I assumed," he addressed Connor "Since you brought a human, you were lovers and would prefer he see the new goods." There was definitely some malice this time and Hank glowered at the android as Connor moved to dress quickly.

They were soon given the bum's rush out the door. "What was his problem?" Hank asked as they approached the car. 

"I tracked down and eli-" He stopped and took a breath, a bit more shuddery than usual. "Several of that model went deviant in the early days," he finally said and it was all he needed to say. "I don't hold it against him, he did his job admirably and with care," But Hank was sure he could still hear some hurt in Connor's voice.

In the car, Connor kept shifting, squirming in his seat. "Something wrong?" Hank asked, glancing over at him.

"This is the same uniform I was issued after my initial construction," he explained. "I never realized how … unpleasant the material was before."

Hank couldn't help the laugh that came out at that. "Oh god, yeah, that's what you remind me of," he said, shaking his head as the chuckles died down. He could feel Connor's curious gaze on him. "When I was about seven, mom got me my first grown up suit for church, and it was so fucking itchy I could never sit still. That's what you look like right now. I'll give you some of my clothes when we get home, and then we can do some shopping for you," he promised. "I'm guessing they turned your skin up to eleven and broke the knob?" he asked.

Connor gave it a moment's thought before he nodded. "I believe that's exactly what happened. I surmise what I'm feeling is no more intense than a human would feel, but I'm unaccustomed to such stimulation on a … visceral level. Before now, I received tactile input more as data, not … sensations."

"Not that it's any of my business," It really wasn't, no matter how much that image of Conor gloriously naked would haunt him in days to come. "But what exactly did they do?" he asked.

"I got what humans would call - the works. New genitalia, internal and external modifications to allow me to look and behave entirely as a human. I can eat, now, for example."

"You could eat before, couldn't you? Could swear I saw you have a bite or two …"

"I could intake substances yes. But my original setup was more like a bird storing food for its young. The only thing I could properly process internally was thirium."

Hank did the math and didn't ask what had happened to the food Connor ate. He'd seen enough nature programs to know how the bird thing worked. "So now you, what, have a bigger stomach?"

"It's not the same size as a human system, but I have a complete digestive tract, now. With all the same sensations as a human."

He just had to point that part out, didn't he? Fuck. Hank tightened his grip on the steering wheel for a moment before relaxing. Another cold shower was in order when he got home. A much longer one.

Curiosity had him speaking again. "This new tract, does it actually do anything, or does it just go … in one end and out the other?"

"I can extract necessary materials to aid in the manufacture of various human-appearance features that require them. If I consume enough raw material - about the same amount you eat in a day, depending on the food - I can produce sweat, semen, and other fluids if desired."

"That … seems pretty thorough," if a little unnecessary but Hank wasn't about to point that out. And Connor wouldn't stop squirming, so Hank was very thankful when they reached the house and he pulled up, climbing out quickly. "I'll get you some clothes," he muttered. Inside, he rifled through his drawers to find some of his older clothes, it would be softer and hopefully less irritating. Having a squirming twink in the house would be too fucking much.

"Here," he handed Connor the clothes, a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and some underwear. "You can change in there," Hank nodded back to his bedroom. Without another word, he ducked into the bathroom and slammed the door. 

+++++

Connor watched the bathroom door for a moment, head cocking when he heard the shower. Before, Hank had spilled coffee down his shirt, so it made sense that he would want a shower. But he'd done nothing more than accompany him to the CyberLife building since the last one. Perhaps it made him feel unclean? Probably why, and Connor could understand that.

In Hank's bedroom, he quickly undressed, letting out a sigh of relief at being without the itchy clothing. Then he took a moment, analyz-no. He *felt* the sensations against his skin. The central air was on low and Connor could feel the gentle movement of warm currents against his skin, and gave a little wiggle as he felt it on his ass, too. He slid his hands over his chest, absently fingering his nipples. Nothing happened, though he did feel some pleasure at the touch. He quickly scanned all the subroutines installed, and activated the optional ones - to give him automatic human responses to stimuli, instead of him having to do it all manually. He could still temporarily deactivate a problematic reaction, but unless he did, things would proceed as if he were a human.

This time when he brushed a finger over his nipple a few times, he felt the skin tighten and harden, the other swelling to match and that sent a shiver down his belly and spine. He gave them each a gentle pinch, then a tug, experimenting with various degrees of pressure. 

To his surprise, he felt his cock begin to harden, his first involuntary erection. It didn't reach full hardness but it was clear that the stimulation to his nipples was causing it. He reached a hand down, feeling the slight softness of his tummy as he did. Then he cupped his balls, surprised at the warm weight of them. His other hand fondled his erection, gasping when he rubbed a finger against the pink head. From this angle, he realized it looked almost like a little pink turtle slowly emerging. He wondered what Hank would think of it. And as he did, he felt himself respond sharply to thoughts of the human, growing fully hard in his hand.

"Interesting," he said aloud. A sound from the bathroom startled him out of his self exploration and he tugged his clothes on quickly. Once dressed, he expected his erection to fade. But the knowledge that he was wrapped in Hank's clothes, and the memories that his unfortunately perfect recall were providing weren't helping. He could remember and feel, now, things he hadn't properly 'felt' at the time. Hank's arms around him just after the revolution. 

The smell of him, chemical mixtures and stimuli stored away as data but now remembered as scents and pressure and warmth. Hank's hand just before his procedure, warm and firm against his, and Connor realized he had calluses. Little rough patches on Hank's palm. His LED flashed yellow and he realized it was from his gun. He rubbed his own hands together, realizing how soft they were. Could he even get calluses?

Realizing he was still hearing the shower, and the sound he'd heard was probably one of the shampoo bottles falling, Connor went to sit in his usual spot on the (surprisingly hard) kitchen chair. The material against his skin was blissfully softer than his uniform and he rested his hands on his thighs as usual, absently rubbing them in small circles as he forced his mind onto the case.

Nudist resort. Fake Married trope, Hank had called it. Posing as husbands. When Hank had admitted he would be willing to play husbands instead of husband and wife, Connor had been relieved. It would have been easy for him to change his outward appearance - more flesh here, less there, a change in the pitch of his voice. But he found he preferred to be as he was now. Male. Masculine. Though not as masculine as some, but that suited him as well. He was designed to be soothing, non-threatening, his stature and build and face all were designed to that end.

As Hank had pointed out, if they were to be married, he should call the detective Hank. But that wasn't all there was to seeming married, was it? A search, thousands of images in the blink of an eye. No, it wasn't just names. Married couples who seemed happiest were the affectionate ones. They held hands, touched each other, embraced and kissed, even in public. And the kissing wasn't the simple, brief peck of a child.

He lifted his hand, brushing two fingertips against his lips gently, realizing he had sensations there as well. He could feel the pressure and warmth of his touch. His lips parted and his fingers slid in, his tongue flicking against them as his lips closed. He could taste, vision exploding with analyses even as his tongue was flooded with taste.

The sensory overload was surprisingly pleasant and Connor couldn't think of anything else as he let out a soft moan.

+++++

Hank thought he had the problem licked, cold water sliding down his chest, quelling the erection Connor was fully responsible for. Or Jacob, maybe. That little shit had carefully orchestrated it so he would get a whopping eye full of Connor's goodies. And what tasty looking goodies they'd been. It was all he could do not to dwell on them during the ride, instead distracting himself with inane questions about Connor's new internals.

But now there were no distractions, and Connor was in the other room putting on some of Hank's old clothes. He'd always had a thing for that, his partners wearing his clothes. Even in the chilled water, Hank was starting to get hard. It was as if his erection was sick and tired of being cooped up and was going to come out and play no matter how cold it was.

He adjusted the temperature to more lukewarm than actually cold, and glowered down at his cock, nestled in mingled brown and grey hair. "This is a goddamn bitch of a unsatisfactory situation," he growled at the offending protrusion before taking it in hand. He grabbed some of his conditioner, squirting it onto his hand, the bottle thunking onto the tub floor when he failed to reshelve it properly.

Hopefully this would help, since Hank generally didn't get it up more than a few times a week. With his hand, he smeared conditioner over his cock, then began to stroke, leaning one arm against the bathroom wall, letting the spray soak his hair and run down his back as he beat off. Part of him hated himself a little more than usual, he didn't like to beat off thinking about friends, down that way led madness. But right now Connor's perfect twink body was all he could summon up and he had to bite back a moan at the memory of it. 

Hank could only blame himself. He'd given him the specs, after all. He hadn't expected him to follow them so closely, though. He'd gotten it perfect. The exact physique and cock he always liked to picture on a cute little bottom. The shit he wanted to do to that poor boy. Hank squeezed his eyes shut, refusing to think of Connor on his knees, sucking Hank off. In his bed, moaning as Hank taught him just what guys like him could do with a tight little asshole. Connor spooned against him in the aftermath, soft cock and balls warm against Hank's hand as he cupped them posessively, filling his palm just right.

"Fuck!" He couldn't hold back the cry as he came explosively, knees almost buckling before he locked them, cock continuing to pulse, sending his thick come down the drain after it spattered on the bathroom wall.

After several moments of panting, Hank began to pull himself together after the most intense orgasm he'd had in a while. Lately, beating off had been a prefunctary thing, done as much to get to sleep as anything else, and even that was hampered by age and alcohol.

Finally he twisted the tap and shut the water off, stepping out and grabbing another towel. Something about putting the same clothes on yet again rubbed him the wrong way, so Hank just stuffed his clothes into the hamper, wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom.

To see Connor in his usual chair, sucking two fingers and moaning, face flushed.

Fuck fuck fucking fuckity fuck.

Not moaning, Hank realized as the soft sound altered in pitch. Whining. And Hank's barrage of images he hadn't wanted to think about helpfully paraded themselves before him, mostly the ones about Hank feeding his cock into that blue-tinged mouth and watching Connor's eyes go soft and heavy.

He needed to stop watching. To move and get to the bedroom and put some goddamn clothes on. Not stand here and watch Connor suck his fingers like he wanted them to be something else. Hank realized Connor had stopped making noise, and that jolted him into rushing for the bedroom, slamming the door closed, praying Connor hadn't seen the tent his towel had insisted on making around his erection.

Hank had the towel off, not wanting the added stimulation against his dick as he tried to get himself under control. While he found and pulled on some boxers, he heard a knock at the bedroom door. 

"Hank?" Connor called. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Hank squeaked, then cleared his throat. "Fine. Just, just dressing, I'll be out in a fuckin' minute."

"There's something we need to discuss. About the case," Connor said after a moment and Hank growled. He didn't want to talk about the fucking case, he wanted to curl up with a bottle and forget Connor had turned into the twink of his dreams. But he knew that wouldn't be an option.

"Lemme get some goddamn clothes on will you?" He growled, trying to draw up some of the anger he usually had in good supply to keep the world away.

When there was no answer for a moment, Hank thought he'd managed to quiet the android. 

"That might be counterproductive to the discussion, Hank."

That stunned Hank enough that he found himself pulling open the bedroom door, dressed only in a tented pair of boxers. "What the fuck?" he demanded, seeing that Connor looked almost as flushed as he felt, cheeks tinged blue. "Why does my being dressed- What?" He could almost feel his brain short circuiting and he wondered if this is how androids felt when they glitched.

"May I come in?" Connor asked softly, and didn't that just go straight to Hanks dick, proving what a perv he was.

"Sure, fine, fucking whatever," he said, moving away to throw himself onto the bed, gesturing vaguely for Connor to sit where ever. It was all he could do not to grab a pillow and drape it over his lap, but that would only draw more attention to an area he wanted Connor to take no notice of whatsofuckingever.

"While you were in the shower, I was thinking about how to best masquerade as a married couple during the case," Connor dove right in, standing just at the foot of Hank's bed.

Hank grunted and nodded for Connor to continue.

"Married couples frequently display affection for each other. Usually physically touching. Embracing and kissing. If we're to convince anyone we're married, we should be ... comfortable with one another, physically."

Hank groaned and rubbed both hands over his face. He really should have seen this coming. Fake married always led to this bullshit. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was the android and had had somehow gotten hacked and was now being fed his old fantasies. "I had a stroke," he mumbled into his hands.

"Hank?" Connor didn't try to hide his alarm, stepping closer and when Hank dropped his hands the man was right there, close enough to touch.

"I had a stroke," he repeated with an almost giddy laugh. "That's what it has to be. Yeah. I had a stroke when I came out of the waiting room and saw you naked. Now I'm on the floor dying and this is just my brain trying to make it a happy ending, that's … that's fucking gotta be it," he said, his head falling back to thunk gently on the headboard for a moment.

He saw the alarm and worry on Connor's face, saw his LED flicker yellow and his eyes lose focus. "I can find no evidence of a blood clot, lesion, or other cause or symptom of a stroke," Despite the calm metere of his words, Hank could hear the tension threaded through them. "Why do you believe you suffered one?"

"Because that's the only explanation for this fucking situation," Hank growled but there was little bite to it. "I should never have agreed to this case," he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face again, pushing his wet hair back and letting out a sigh as he forced himself to try and regain some kind of grip on the situation.

Finally he forced himself to sit up instead of half slouched like a sullen teenager. "Have a seat, Connor," He nodded to the spot of the bed just below his folded legs. His knees wouldn't like if he sat this way for long but he didn't care right now. Connor sat, still looking a bit worried. Hank took a breath. "So, you were saying, married, affection …" He had filled it in himself but he wanted Connor to say it, partly just to make his hell complete.

Apparently glad to have the conversation redirected back to the original topic, Connor nodded. "Married couples that engage in physical affection and intimacy show the greatest chances for success. If we're to convince anyone we're a happily married couple, we should be able to display a greater level of comfort with each other's bodies than we currently do."

Hank noticed the way Connor wasn't quite meeting his gaze. His eyes were lowered, a bit sideways and he looked so shy, and the blue tinge to his cheeks wasn't helping with the innocent little twink image. "How do you propose we gain this comfort?" he asked.

Connor finally did look him in the eye this time, but they were soft and Hank felt a warm hand on his knee. "By increasing the amount of physical contact until we're more at ease with each other." His voice was quiet, and had a soft edge that Hank didn't want to identify.

His lips twitched. "And you wanna try out your new toy," he added, hoping humor would deflect the growing arousal he felt at Connor's touch.

"I have a good many new ... toys, Hank," Connor said with unmistakable coyness. "I believe I need your help in exploring all of them, or I run the risk of becoming overwhelmed in public and jeopardizing the case."

Well … fucking hell. And the slow way Connor licked his bottom lip after all that was very deliberate. 

Hank wanted to ask … almost needed to know … But he bit his tongue on the question. He didn't want to hear Connor's sweet submissive little voice confirming that no, he didn't find Hank very appealing, but he would play along for the case. Hank would just let himself pretend, he already knew he was going to hell, he might as well enjoy the ride.

"Since we're meant to be checked into the resort tomorrow evening at the latest, we don't have very long to gain familiarity with each other," Connor pointed out. Then his eyes dropped and he looked shy again. "I don't know the best procedure to begin extensive contact," he admitted.

"Generally starts with kissing," Hank grumbled, unable to take his eyes off of Connor, noting his clothes were a big big on him, just enough to make him look even smaller. Jesus christ. 

"Okay, I can't keep sitting like this," Hank murmured, gently dislodging Connor's hand as he shifted his leg. "Come lay here," he patted the bed beside him, shimmying down once Connor stood. Then he watched that slim, lithe body *crawl* onto the bed before he lay on his side, a bit stiff but they were new to this. Sliding down, Hank rolled onto his side to face him. "We'll start slow," he assured him, shifting a bit closer, surprised at how warm Connor's body felt. "And… follow my lead and do what feels good, okay?" he hadn't been with someone this inexperienced in a long, long time, and fuck if it didn't make him feel like an excessively dirty old man. Even more than usual.

Connor said nothing, just nodding, lips parted slightly, face flushed and eyes soft as Hank leaned forward, a hand resting on his waist as he brushed his mouth lightly against Connor's, surprised at how soft his lips were. And at how naturally they seemed to fall open for him. 

He didn't take the invitation just yet, instead continuing to tease them both, taking Connor's breath into his own lungs, feeling he tension in his body grow as Hank continually denied them what they both wanted. Whenever he felt the tentative probe of Connor's tongue, he drew back, gently sucking on his bottom lip. Finally, Hank gets what he hadn't realized he'd been waiting for.

A broken, needy, gasping little whine of his name.

Hank's hand slides up Connor's back and into his amazingly soft hair, cupping the back of his head as he finally kisses him full and deep. Connor's body rocks, pressing close and Hank can feel that soft hand clenching on his waist, realizing it had been there the whole time. It slides around his waist and to his back and their bodies press closer together as Hank sets about thoroughly claiming Connor's soft, willing mouth. Yep. Hell. A deep, deep hole in hell.

Connor is surprisingly vocal for someone who didn't really need to make any noise at all. He didn't have the same noise-making impulses humans did. Or maybe he did now? Then Connor rocked his hps just so and Hank's own breathing stuttered for a moment a the blissful pressure to his cock.

"Fuck," he broke the kiss with a gasp and for the first time in a long time had to actually concentrate on *not* coming. His second erection in a day for the first time in years and he wasn't going to waste it on kissing and frottage.

A glance at Connor showed he seemed to be in the same state as when Hank ahd caught him fellating his fingers earlier. "Connor?" he asked quietly, resting his hand on the boy's cheek.

His LED flickered yellow/blue for a moment, then cycled blue as his eyes fluttered open and he let out a very satisfied sigh. "I like the way your mouth tastes," he said with a shy smile, his hand trying to pull Hank closer as he leaned in to capture his mouth again.

Hank gave a soft chuckle before giving him a brief kiss. "We gotta take a break, Con," he admitted, feeling his age settle on his shoulders once again like an overly heavy, overly hot coat he didn't want to be wearing. "I'm too close and I don't wanna blow my load making out like some teenager."

Was that pride Hank saw flickering in Connor's eyes as he smiled and gave a little nod. "Would it be alright if I did?" he asked.

"Did what?" Hank thought he knew what Connor meant but he wanted to hear him say it. To hear him ask.

"Blew my load like some teenager," he murmured, a blush rising on his cheeks.

Hank's lips curved into a smile "I think that might be alright. I'm assuming you guys have a much shorter refractory period," he said, trying not to feel inadequate.

"We don't have one at all," Connor said with far too much cheer, then began rocking his hips against Hank, clearly seeking the friction his new body had figured out was necessary.

"Whoa, whoa, hold it," Hank pressed a firm hand to Connor's hip. "There's a lotta ways to go about this," he murmured. "And almost all of then involve not jizzing up my clothes," he said, giving Connor's shirt a tug. "Come on, everything off," he said, shifting away to encourage Connor to get up. He rolled to the far side of the bed and stood. Hank shifted to lay on his back and watched. He managed not to roll his eyes but he couldn't suppress the smile as Connor carefully folded the ratty old clothes and set them reverently on the bedside table. 

He rolled onto his side and patted the bed beside him. "Come here, on your back," and watched again as Connor crawled onto the bed to join him, laying on his back like he'd been told. "Are these new?" he asked, caressing a pert nipple, smiling at Connor's hitched breath and quick nod.

"T-that feels good," Connor murmured as Hank gave it a squeeze, then rolled it between his fingers.

"Good, I like making my partners feel good," Hank murmured, nuzzling Connor's cheek as he played with his nipples. "You'll tell me if you don't enjoy something, right?"

"I will," Connor promised, arching up and whining softly when Hank stopped playing with his nipple.

"You haven't had any real time to explore, have you?" Hank asked, his voice a little rough.

Connor shook his head. "N-no. I b-briefly touched myself while you were in the shower, but then I thought you were done, so I stopped and dressed."

"And by the time I finally came out of the shower, you were sitting there, sucking your fingers like it's what you were made for," Hank growled roughly.

Connor gasped at the coarse words even if they weren't that filthy and he nodded eagerly.

"Well then, that's something we need to explore," Hank said with a purr.

+++++

Before Connor knew what Hank had planned, two callused fingers were pressed into his mouth, not deep, but enough to press lightly on his tongue and Connor moaned. His tongue moved wetly over the digits as his vision became clouded with popups and static fizzled in his ears.

Coffee. Leather. Sweat. A thousand other micro-tastes, undetectable to a human but Connor could taste them all. And one that had him sucking, tongue seeking more of it. Semen. Fresh semen. Had Hank masturbated in the shower? The thought went straight to Connor's dick and he whined.

He felt Hank begin to withdraw his fingers, and recalling his instructions to do what felt right, he clasped a strong hand on Hank's wrist and pulled them further into his mouth, sucking hard, wanting more of that semen. More proof that Hank had found pleasure, possibly because of him.

"Greedy little brat," Hank growled in his ear but there was no fire to them, only hunger.

Hank gave his hand another tug and Connor relented. Only to ravenously lick the inside of his mouth, wanting more. He wanted to lick and taste all of Hank now. "Want more," he murmured, his words soft with static that he wasn't even sure Hank could hear.

"Is it just my fingers you wanna suck, Connor,"

Connor imagined kissing Hank all over, then sucking - Yes. "N-not your fingers," he murmured, his hand running down Hank's wonderfully soft belly to seek what he knew rested just below it.

"Ah-ah," Hank stopped Connor's hand. "If you wanna suck my cock, you have to ask nicely," Hank insisted The words and the gentle grip just added to Connor's slowly overloading state, and he loved it.

"T-thought you didn't wanna yet," he murmured, trying to stretch out the delicious sensations.

"Said I didn't wanna blow it rubbing off on you," Hank pointed out. "Having your cute little mouth wrapped around my cock would be a wonderful place to come,"

Connor's breath hitched at that, letting out a little moan. Even above the still processing windows of Hank's taste, a mission statement displayed. Ask to suck Hanks cock. Then, further analyses clicked in and it was amended. Beg to suck Hanks cock.

"Please," he whined, arching up under the hand resting warm on his belly. "Please let me s-suck you," he asked. "Wanna taste you, feel you in my mouth, Hank, please," the words continued until they were stopped by Hank's mouth.

"Never could say no to an eager little twink," Hank said as he drew away to roll onto his back, pushing his boxers down, revealing his erection. "Come on, Connor," he murmured. "Time to learn what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours," He slid his hand into Connor's hair and gently urged him to move down the bed. 

Once in place, Hank's hand moved to Connor's neck and he felt briefly bereft, having enjoyed the fingers in his hair that sent tingles all the way down to his cock. Seeing Hank's cock so close, however, left him with no room for anything but elation. He wrapped his mouth around the bulbous head, eager tongue lapping at the slit and he moaned at the cascade of windows that accompanied it. He took more in eagerly, moaning at the pressure and warmth and taste that filled his mouth. If was everything he could have imagined and more.

"Fuck, Con, you're an eager little thing," Hank seemed to have figured out that his talking had only positive effects on Connor's arousal. Very positive effects. 

Connor purred at the praise, eyes closing so he could focus on the taste and the stuttering cascade of messages that filled his head. He stayed sucking the tip of Hank's cock, tongue licking at the never ending flow of precome.

"There's more than that, Connor," Hank murmured. "Thought you wanted to suck my cock, not tease me," he growled.

Whining softly, COnnor nodded, then forced himself to draw back, a thick line of saliva connecting his lip to Hank's cock. "Want it all," he begged. "M-make me take it?" He wasn't sure what his limits were, but he knew he wanted Hank to be the one to test them.

"Fucking fuck, Connor," Hank groaned. "Don't ask me to do shit like that because I fucking will. You- do you even have a gag reflex?"

Connor's eyes went soft, he found he loved making Hank swear in bed. "Don't have one. Need you to f-fuck my throat," he asked, finding he was actually struggling for the words in the wake of all the sensations flooding him. The truth was, he wasn't sure he had the processing power for very much finesse right now and was eager to cede control to the human.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Connor, could you be any more fucking perfect?" Hank asked, and that blessed hand was once gain tangled in Connor's dark hair. The grip was even firmer this time, and Connor felt approximately ten hairs pulled out at the root, each one accompanied by a tiny prick of shivery pain, and a brief error message.

Connor made sure to keep his jaw open enough to keep his teeth away from Hank's thrusting cock, then he groaned as it filled his mouth and pushed down his slick throat. He swallowed, the move instinctive, hoping it would add to hank's stimulation. If the tightening of his hand and the thrusting of his hips was any indication, Connor had been right.

Connor moved as best he could, bobbing his head, lips sealed tightly around Hank's cock as he took him into his throat over and over again, twisting his head a little, anything to increase the sensations he was giving Hank, and the ones he was greedily taking for himself. The way Hank growled if Connor 'slipped' and let the faintest pressure of his teeth graze along Hank's shaft. The way the hand in his hair twisted when he licked just *there*. Hips stuttering upwards when Connor swallowed. A thousand actions and reactions, all piling up in an endless cascade of sensations and notices.

Then Hank came, flooding ever more tastes and sensations into Connor's muth and he lost all sense of reality as his system finally reached critical overload.

After flashing red for a moment, the messages all vanished and Connor's vision was unstable, like a degraded video, flickering but slowly settling. He blinked, forcing himself to turn off his notices for a few moments, leaving himself with just the sensations. The taste of Hank's come in his mouth. Hank's cock slowly softening and the man's hand heavy against Connor's neck. 

Lifting his head gradually, he blinked up at Hank, watching his chest rise and fall quickly. A brief scan assured him that his blood pressure was elevated considerably, but not dangerously so. His own body felt heavier than usual, his limbs moving sluggishly as he moved up Hank's body, craving more contact, more closeness, and it never occurred to him Hank wouldn't want him right where he was.

+++++

Hank came back from his mind-blanking orgasm to feel Connor sliding up to tuck into his side, one leg draped over his, an arm over his chest, and he could feel that perfect little cock pressed against his hip, still hard. "Good job," he murmured, his arm curling around Connor's shoulders, turning his head to nuzzle his hair. The words came out more as a rough mumble, but it was all he could muster at the moment.

Connor's wordless murmur in return sounded deeply pleased, though Hank thought he could hear some static in it, like some of the more damaged android's he'd seen. And Connor's movements were uncommonly slow and Hank felt his afterglow begin to ebb in the face of a little worry about Connor.

"You okay there, Con?" Hank asked, his vice a little more under control now. 

Connor nodded against his shoulder, refusing to lift his head. "M'fine," he said quietly. "Had … cri'cal-crit- crit i cal overload." The very definitely staticy words had a sleepy quality and were not really assuring to Hank at all. 

"Connor, baby, can you look at me?" He always figured if someone was gonna have a stroke during sex it would be him. A second later, his phone rang and he snarled, then realized it was the special tone that Connor had set up for when he was calling Hank remotely. That calmed him enough to grab his phone off the bedside table.

[Sensory overload shorted out my primary systems. I didn't mean to alarm you.]

"Just worried," he murmured, calming down considerably now that he could actually communicate with his partner once more. "I didn't mean to overload you like that, I shouldn't have been so rough." He was glad he didn't have to text back, he was never very good at it anyway, and he could just hold the phone, propped on his belly and let Connor text while he spoke.

[I *enjoyed* the overload. I wanted it! My internal systems are running fine, as I'm able to communicate with you. My sensory interface, and my physical interface have been largely shut down pending a full diagnostic. ] Connor's head moved just a bit, a brief little nuzzle, if Hank wasn't mistaken. [It was not what humans experience as an orgasm, but I believe it was a uniquely android analogue of one.]

"Oh," Hank couldn't help a smile, and turned his head to briefly press a kiss to Connor's hair. He wondered at what point they had abandoned the pretext that this was 'for the case'?

Before he could say more, his phone chirped again. [Your heart rate spiked just then. Do you enjoy the thought of sending me into an sensory overload black out?] 

"How do you manage to sound so smug through text?" Hank growled, then nuzzled connor's head again, enjoying the softness of his hair on his lips.

[Talent. It helps that you know me well enough to anticipate my moods.]

"Yeah, well, live with someone a few months," Hank murmured, suddenly shy about how much attention he really had been paying the android. "And hey, you said your systems were in shutdown, how'd you know my heart rate spiked?"

[An educated guess.[]

"Cheeky motherfucker," Hank sighed. "And for the record, now that I know it's closer to orgasm than stroke, yes I did enjoy it. Brat."

[When my system has fully recovered, I would very much like to attempt a physical orgasm as well. Which I believe we were intending to persue before you discovered and shamelessly exploited my oral fixation.]

"Oral fixation, huh? You said it not me," Hank mumbled. "I was surprised at just how much you seemed to enjoy it," he mused. "A lot of humans don't because it's a one way act. Most people reciprocate, but a lot of folks don't derive any direct pleasure from giving oral sex, beyond pleasing their partner, and even how much that's worth varies from person to person. Some people just find it gross.."

[Do you?]

"I don't think it'll ever send me into overload like *some* people," He gave Connor a teasing nudge. "But I do like it, especially when my partner is … responsive. Nothing worse than going down on someone who just lays there."

[I'm glad I've never had that experience. Your responses were most gratifying. Even when you pulled my hair. Perhaps especially then. It was pleasing to know I was … getting under your skin.]

"Connor, you've been getting under my skin for a long time now," he admitted softly. Pretense completely abandoned, no turning back now.

To Hank's surprise, Connor began to lift his head then, his movements slow but more coordinated than they'd been earlier. He shifted, pushing up on one arm and leaned over Hank to catch his mouth in a sweet but firm kiss, not allowing Hank the control or luxury of teasing him as he'd done before. Connor's soft, warm hand rested on his chest and Hank dropped the phone to cover it with his own as he returned the kiss. "Someone's feeling better," he murmured when it ended.

"I felt your words warranted a more … personal response, so I suspended the less vital parts of the diagnostic and reasserted control over my primary systems," Connor's voice was soft and a bit raspy like always and it made Hank's stomach curl in a very pleasing way to know he'd apparently touched the android as well.

"If you wanna finish the diagnostic you can," Hank murmured, his thumb caressing Connor's fingers. "Happy to have you right here for a while," he assured him, still amazed that the other man seemed to enjoy him enough to not care about his beer gut or age.

"Happy to be here," Connor said, dropping his head for another kiss. "But I have more … pressing concerns, at the moment," he rocked his hips just so and Hank felt the little erection press against his hip and chuckled.

"OOohh, greedy boy wants to come twice in twenty minutes does he?" Hank asked with a wolfish chuckle. He might not be able to come like a teenager anymore, but damned if he couldn't enjoy making Connor do it.

"I believe that's what I was getting at, yes," Connor admitted with a soft laugh and Hank felt his heart clench, not sure he'd heard such a sound from Connor before. 

Hank pushed him to lay on his back and moved to his side so he could see Connor. "Normally I'd be sucking that pretty little cock of yours," Hank admitted, nuzzling Connor's cheek, enjoying the sharp intake of breath. "But this is gonna be your first ever body orgasm and I wanna watch it happen. Something I'll cherish," he added with a whisper before kissing Connor slow and deep. 

He teased each nipple, feeling Connor arch up into his touch and whine softly into his mouth. Smiling against his lips, he eased his hand down, loving the softness of his tummy, and the firmness under it. Further down, his fingers slid through Connor's soft pubic hair before his fingers spread and he cupped Connor's erection against his hand, fingers curling to cradle his balls and he could feel Connor trembling. 

"Hank-" That breathy, needy little gasp and Hank purred. 

"This is why I like you this size," he murmured between brief kisses. "I like to hold you just like this," He almost said something about being his, but he managed to stop himself, not wanting to get into that sort of thing without some actual discussion. Or at least a signal from Connor himself.

"It feels nice," Connor murmured, his eyes unfocused but aimed at Hank. His hips rocked up, grinding softly against Hank's palm. "I like your hand right there," he murmured, turning his head to nuzzle Hank's shoulder.

"Do you wanna rub off on my hand, baby?" Hank asked with a purr. "Or do you want me to stroke your cute little cock?"

"Mmmnh," Connor gave a little whine of indecision. "Wan-wanna rub off," he finally said. He reached for Hank's wrist, pressing his hand a little to increase the contact and pressure. "I like your calluses," he added.

Hank chuckled softly. "I'm glad, baby," he smiled, adjusting his hand just a bit to be more comfortable, and to make sure one of said calluses rubbed against the exposed tip of Connor's cock. The adjustment was rewarded with a firm buck of his hips and a breathy little moan. 

Once he settled on a position for his hand, he held it still, letting Connor rock up against it. Hank pushed up enough onto his elbow to clearly see his face and chest, loving the pleasure that played over it. One of Connor's arms was threaded under Hank and rubbing and clenching at his back. The other was bent, hand gently fisted beside his head. "You look so good like this, Connor," Hank purred, unable to keep quiet. "Chasing your pleasure against my hand, wanton little thing," he murmured.

"Hank!" Connor groaned at the light dirty talk. "I-I like when you talk like that," he murmured and Hank found himself grateful for the confirmation.

"Then I'll keep it up," he promised, pressing a kiss to Connor's lips. "Always did have a dirty mouth," he chuckled. "So much I wanna do with you, Connor. So much I wanna show you. Teach you."

"T-tell me," Connor whined as he rubbed up against Hank's hand, and the flicker of static was unmistakable.

"First lemme say if you go into overload shutdown again, go ahead and let it run, okay baby?" When Connor nodded eagerly, Hank kissed him again. "Good boy," he whispered. "You're always such a good boy, Connor. So eager for me. You sucked my cock so well before. Look forward to you doing it again," he purred.

Connor was rubbing up against his palm in quick, eager motions and Hank just watched for a few moments. "Such an eager boy, you just wanna be touched all over, don't you?" He was answered with a breathy moan to the affirmative. "Soon, wanna see if all of you is as soft as your tummy and your hands. Well, I mean some parts are harder," he met Connor's rocking hips with his hand pressing down and was rewarded with a strangled little groan. Either Connor had downloaded a guide of how-to-moan or this was entirely natural, and Hank suspected it was more the latter than the former. 

"Hank," Connor whined. "Hank, please, need, not quite, need more," he finally managed to get out, and Hank noticed the static in his voice matched a flickering in his unfocused eyes. 

Since Connor had no precome to work with, and Hank wasn't about to rummage around for anything else, he lifted his hand and stuffed two fingers into Connor's mouth. Either he picked up on Hank's intent or he was a natural born cocksucker, but either way he gave Hank's fingers the same treatment as before, and when he withdrew them, they glistened. He then got the same treatment for his tumb "Good boy," he purred against his cheek. "You suck whatever I give you so fucking well, Connor, baby," he purred.

Fingers now slick with saliva, he began to stroke Connor's little cock, thumb brushing the head as two fingers curled around the small shaft. And Connor went wild, rocking up into his fingers, nails digging into his back as he tried to grab onto something, anything. His other arm slid up, gripping the headboard and Hank could see his whole body tightening.

"That's it, that's it sweet boy, feel it, let it happen, just let it build and feel it break, want you to come for me, Connor. Can you do that, come for me like a good boy?"

Connor's whine turned into a low keen and after a few thrusts and a well placed little twist on Hank's part, Connor did just that, shaking and crying out as he felt his first human-like orgasm.

Hank drank in the sight, Connor's body snapping rigid for a moment, the cock in his hand spasming, a small splash on his belly, his little balls bouncing as they emptied themselves of fluid. His eyes were wide, then squeezed shut and then his body relaxed, suddenly and heavily and if Hank didn't know what it was, he'd've been worried.

As it was, all he did was make sure his phone was in reach, pull the covers over both of them, and ease Connor onto his side. Then he spooned up behind him, his hand sliding down to gently, possessively cup that softening little cock and balls, content to just hold the dozing man in his arms. 

+++++

Following his diagnostics, Connor slowly became aware of two sounds, one near, and one a little farther. The near one was low and steady and accompanied by simultaneous puffs of air against his shoulder.

Hank was snoring, and the intimacy of it, matched by the warm body against his back and the loose hand cupped around his still new genitals was thrilling and Connor did not want to leave.

The second sound, however, made that a necessity. Sumo scratching at the back door. He was a well behaved dog, but even he had his limits, and if he was scratching, it meant the pads Connor always laid down for him had been used.

His eyes opened as he very carefully wiggled out of bed, not bothering with clothes since no one could see into Hank's back yard. He realized the extent of his error when the cold Detroit air blasted against his bed-warmed skin and this time the notifications weren't nearly so pleasant. Starting to shiver, he stubbornly stood at the doorway and watched Sumo. Thankfully, despite being built for the extreme cold, the St. Bernard was no keener on it than Connor, and after having done his business and briefly patrolled his territory, Sumo was bounding back into the warm house.

After checking that the dog had water, and quickly changing his soiled pads, Connor decided the best place to be just now was back in bed with Hank.

He'd not realized just how cold his skin had gotten until Hank yelped and came awake with a snort when Connor lifted the covers and slid under them. Before he could apologize, however, Hank was growling and wrapping the blanket and both arms around him. "Fuck have you been?" he grumbled sleepily "Fucking robocicle, Jesus Con, c'mere, fuck," he said, a strong hand rubbing Connor's back as Hank tucked him close. Connor smiled at the swearing, and the realization that Hank probably hadn't woken all the way up, probably in that half-state he attained when letting Sumo out himself mid-sleep.

Soon Hank's was snoring steady and quiet into his ear once more and Connor smiled to himself. This new position was interesting, and he carefully eased one leg over Hank's hip,letting out a little purr when Hank's leg bent up and nestled up between his legs, amping up the intimacy.

He took his time, savoring the new sensations, the gentle rasp of Hank's leg hair against his sensitive inner thighs. The softness of Hank's belly against his own firmer one. The human's coarse chest hair. Connor eased away just enough to allow his hand between them, slowly threading his slender fingers up through the greying nest. Messages popped up, informing him of the texture, the scents his motion stirred up, Hank's temperature, blood pressure, stress levels and a dozen other measurements.

The two that made him smile was the count of Hank's chest hair which just amused him, and his stress level, which was a low as Connor had ever measured it. That made his heart kick a little. Reaching up, infinitely gentle fingers eased Hank's hair away from his sleeping face. Hank moved then, and Connor feared he'd woken him. Instead, Hank just turned his head slightly, muzzily nuzzling at Connor's hand before settling back down. 

Connor lifted his head just enough to brush a feather light kiss against Hank's soft, warm lips, the contact was answered with a low, sleepy, soft grunt, but Hank's snores remained steady and regular, as Connor had hoped. He would need to speak to the detective to confirm, but it seemed to Connor that their interaction no longer fell under the heading of 'for the case' and was something new between the two of them.

Something warm and just slightly uncomfortable was curling up and settling in around Connor's thirium pump, and he adamantly refused to put a name to it. Not yet. Not until he had a better idea of where he really fit into Hank's life. Was this a brief fling? He hoped not, and some of Hank's statements in the past few hours strengthened that hope.

Despite a photographic memory and perfect recall, Connor found himself studying Hank's face, noting each wrinkle and faint scar, the way he looked younger while asleep. Occasionally he'd give a snort mid-snore, and 76% of the time, that was accompanied by a smacking of his lips. 

Gentle fingers stroked a slightly unkempt grey beard and he wondered how Hank would look with it properly trimmed. Not shortened, just evened out and tidied up. His brain provided the answer and almost unbidden the mission statement popped up. Trim Hank's beard. Connor's already strong physical reaction to Hank increased a good 6% at the mere thought of him with a trimmed beard and freshly cut hair. Cut Hank's Hair was added to his list.

When Hank moved away, Connor worried his exploratory touches had woken him and he felt a chill that had nothing to do with temperature. Instead, all Hank did was flop onto his back, sprawling on the bed. With a smile, Connor closed the gap between them, his arm around Hank's chest, his leg over his thigh and resting his head on Hank's shoulder, giving a soft hum of pleasure at the warm feel and smell of him. He turned his head, tongue flicking out against Hank's skin and let out a quiet sigh at the cascade of messages, his brain tingling before settling.

Allowing his mind to wander, Connor recalled Hank's distress during his critical overload and frowned a little. Closing his eyes, his LED blinked yellow as he rooted around in his internal workings. He carefully pored over his overload response settings with an eye to either reducing his downtime, or allowing more movement during it.

At the very least, he found he wanted to actually speak to Hank verbally during shutdown. First he modified most of the secondary diagnostics, so that instead of running simultaneously after the primary ones and during shutdown, they would run one at a time in the background following shutdown and reactivation. That alone reduced total mandatory shutdown time by one third. He then adjusted the shutdown parameters, ensuring his capacity to transmit speech instead of just text remained. 

Something else occurred to him. Well, several things. For all his modifications, he couldn't quite pass as human. 

He could mimic the natural speech and motions easily enough. He did have packages and subroutines for more human behavior than he typically exhibited. More casual and colloquial word choices, greater variance to his speech cadence. Adapting a more relaxed posture and form of movement. It would be a matter of activating them. He didn't usually because he found some comfort in behaving the way he'd been programmed, and that didn't factor in the influential point that Hank had made. When Connor had humanized his speech and actions a few times for a case, Hank had grumped that the android wasn't acting like himself. It warmed him that it was his own preferred behavior that seemed correct to Hank.

Making a note to activate the human packages before he left, he now had to deal with the physical. His fingers trembled for just a moment, then steadied once he reached his temple. He grimaced at the painful sensation, letting out a little gasp, then biting back a pained whine as he tugged his LED off, feeling the skin spreading over it as he reached to place it carefully on the bedside table.

Then there was the matter of his skin. Or rather, the thirium tinge of it. He couldn't change the color of his blood, but he could alter the shading of his own skin. The simplest way would have been to simply darken hs skin considerably, so the blue would be lost under the simulated melanin, but Connor knew that would be a Bad Idea. Even if no one else knew, Hank would, and Hank's respect mattered more than enough for Connor to not engage in blackface.

That left working within the fairly narrowly defined skin tone he was created with. His lips were the most obvious place and he pinkened the skin there, adding shades of red, thickening the skin a little until he had just slightly plumper lips, shaded pink. In fact, a projection of what he now looked like made Connor tingle a little, since it looked like he'd been kissed a good deal very recently.

The rest of his skin was simpler, if only because it was less noticeable. First he shifted to a more orange tone, grimacing because he looked a bit too orange. Then he tried to temper it with pink, mellowing out the sharpness of the orange and leaving Connor with the overall effect of a bronze colored tan. A bit darker, but no more than a human would get after a few days of sun exposure. Suitable, even in February, for the sort of human who attended AsUR

Thinking of the sharp changes in skin tone between Hank's cock when soft versus when erect, Connor knew an erection in public would give him away unless me modified that as well. And public or not, erections were going to be a given around Hank, he was certain of that. Soft it wasn't really a problem, but the excess of thirium required to maintain an erection was more than could be countered with a few adjustments to skin tone. So … Connor dug into his settings, and since he couldn't find what he wanted, he manually adjusted his settings, adding a toggle to disable erections if he were naked, and anyone but Hank were present. 

He could have simply deactivated automatic erections, but he liked the idea of being … organic, for lack of a better term. He wanted his responses to hank to be natural and real whenever he could manage it, and constantly switching, or getting himself manually erect every time wouldn't feel right.

Alterations and decisions made, there was little left to do but wait for Hank to rouse while he continued some secondary and tertiary research on the case, chasing down what leads he could inside his own head. 

+++++

Hank woke up slowly, feeling warm and cozy, and also unfortunately feeling a full bladder. Still not entirely awake, he eased away from the warmth - his sleep-fogged mind assuming it was Sumo, the assumption not corrected when he blearily stepped over him on the way to the bathroom. 

By the time he was done and washing his hands, Hank was awake enough to recall the night before. Part of him felt guilty, like he'd taken advantage of Connor. Most of him, though, just felt … satisfied. He was feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time, and that had to count for something.

Stopping to top up Sumo's water dish and check his overnight pads, Hank made his way back to the bedroom, then stopped at the door. That wasn't Connor. Connor was pale, not a bonzey tan. The shape was similar, and the hair. He did have a type, after all.

He sagged against the doorway, feeling his age again. Had he … he didn't remember going out drinking? He rubbed a hand over his face. Whoever it was had his face hidden, pressed into Hank's pillow, apparently having grabbed it as soon as he got up. 

Did he really get too drunk to remember going out, picking up a vaguely Connor shaped human from some bar and bringing him home as a twisted surrogate fuck? And on that topic, where was Connor? A glance at the clock proved it was too early for even that workaholic to be clocking in any time soon.

Deciding he was not nearly awake enough for this fucking shit, Hank left the kid asleep for now, going to make himself some coffee and ponder where his missing roommate was. As soon as the carafe had enough for a mug, he pulled it out and poured it into a mug and stirring in some sugar, forcing himself to stop at four teaspoons - a compromise between Connor's two and his preferred six.

"I'm detecting elevated stress levels. Is something wrong, Hank?" 

Connor's voice made Hank jump a little and he turned, mouth open to ask where the fuck he'd been and why had he let Hank get *that* drunk. Then he realized what he was seeing.

The kid. The human kid from his bed. With an eerily familiar face. "Connor?" He blinked, glancing around, in case his partner had returned just at the same time the twink had woken up.

"I finalized my appearance to pass completely as human," the twink's hand lifted up, brushing a finger against the spot Connor's LED should have been. "Judging from your reaction, my adjustments were successful."

"Jesus fucking Christ Connor," Hank sagged, barely putting his mug down before he spilled it, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. He felt two unmistakably soft hands on his hips.

"I never meant to cause you distress, Hank, I apologize," Connor's voice was soft and Hank lowered his hands, resting them on his shoulders.

"It's not your fault," he said, his arms winding around Connor's shoulders and drawing him close. "I thought I blacked out," he said quietly. "It … wouldn't he the first time I woke up with some cute twink in my bed that I had absolutely *no* fucking memory of," he admitted quietly. "Should have realized I'm not nearly sick enough to be that hung over," he said, pressing a kiss to Connor's hair.

"You keep calling me that," Connor murmured, lifting his head to gaze up at Hank. "Twink. What do you mean by it?" he asked.

"Uhm ... " Hank cleared his throat. "You don't know?" He wasn't sure he wanted to get into just how pervy he was this early in the morning. Regardless of the fact that they were both naked as jay birds.

"I know the definition of it, but I want to know what *you* mean by it," he said.

"Ah. Uhm. Well. Twink is … like you. At least compared to me," he murmured. "A guy who's very much a guy, but also has a face easily called pretty," he caressed Connor's cheek. "Slender build, not skinny but not excessively muscular. Fairly little body hair. Shorter than me. Small cock, though that's just my preference. And … a lot younger than I am now. A bit submissive," he murmured. "Makes me sound like a goddamn pervert when I say it out like that, but that's my type. At least one of my types," he murmured. "Okay, my main type, if I'm honest," he sighed, rubbing Connor's back.

"Why does that description of me make you uncomfortable? Nothing you've said is inaccurate or especially perverted by human standards," Connor said, his head resting on Hank's chest.

"Because I'm fifty three goddamn years old, and fat, and a drunk, and I've got no business wanting to fuck the stuffing out of a cute young thing that looks *easily* half my age," he growled, feeling the guilt curl back up in his stomach. 

He sighed and drew away. "I'm gonna go have a shower," he said, only to find Connor's hand closing around his wrist before he could get very far.

"This is the third time in two days you've tried to avoid me by taking a shower, Hank. I don't think it will help any more this time than the previous two have."

Suddenly recalling just how easily Connor could manhandle him, Hank found himself in the kitchen chair with a lapful of soft, naked twink. Fucking fuck. Connor wiggled into place, his hands resting on Hank's shoulders. For once, Hank was glad age and drink had robbed him of the easy kinds of erections he used to get in situations like this. That, and coming not once but twice in the last twelve hours. He noted, distractly, that Connor was as soft and he was and he was glad of that.

Hank wanted to avoid Connor's gaze, but looking down just had him staring at that too-perfect chest. He sighed and did his best to man up, though he didn't bother to not scowl at the impassive looking face gazing at him with soft brown eyes.

"Now that I have your full attention," Connor said, his voice sounding steelier than Hank was used to. "Your age is irrelevant to me. In the strictest terms, every adult human is so much older than me that the difference between you and, for example, Detective Reed-"

That name had Hank growling under his breath, and the satisfied, challenging look in Connor's eyes proved he'd expected that. 

"You consider him to be a good deal younger than you. He certainly sees you as significantly older. But to me, taking into account the actual amount of time I've been alive, you might as well be the same age."

"But we're not," Hank grumbled. "And did you *have* to bring up that asshole when we're both naked?"

"I wanted to be sure you were paying attention," Connor said, having shed his submissive edge entirely for the moment.

"Fine, fine, you made your point. I'm still a fat fucking drunk, though," he said with a sigh. "And by the way, thank you for pointing out just how *much* older than you I actually fucking am," he growled nastily, then sighed, his shoulders sagging a little. "I'm sorry. That was mean," he said quietly, shame heating his face.

Connor was quiet long enough that Hank thought he might have actually upset him, and he realized how much he'd come to rely on his LED to tell when he was thinking deep. "I won't say I deserved it, but I believe I understand. At least, I can tell you're upset, and I'm aware you tend to lash out when you feel on unsteady ground, and I've been shaking the floor under you rather vigorously."

The analogy made Hank smile very softly and he nodded, letting his hands rub up and down Connor's back. "I know, I'm a grumpy motherfuker, but you still didn't deserve it."

Connor pressed a light kiss to Hank's mouth and smiled as he caressed his cheek. "Apology accepted."

"So are we done?" Hank asked hopefully, reaching for the table to push himself up.

"We are not," Connor said firmly, plucking Hank's hand off the table and wrapping it back around his waist. "We aren't done until two things are acknowledged. One, that this is … us. That what happened last night stopped being about the case and started being about you and me."

Hank still felt guilty, Connor was - and looked - too young for a washed up old bastard like him, but he wasn't going to deny what he said. He nodded, looking down. "Yeah, this you and me, even if it shouldn't be."

"And *second*" Connor said firmly, his finger on Hank's chin gently forcing his head back up. "You accept that I am fully capable of making my own decisions about who I share my life with. And my body."

Hank sighed, shaking his head a little. "That's not what I'm calling into doubt, Connor. I just … you're gorgeous, smart. You're sweet, at least when you're not trying to break a suspect. You could have pretty much anybody, human or android-"

"And I want YOU, Henry Anderson," Connor said and he actually sounded a little angry, hurt even, making Hank blink in surprise. "I could give you a thousand reasons why and you'd find a way to weasel out of every single one." Connor eyed him for a moment before speaking, his voice going soft and gentle, almost a whisper. "Because some part of you doesn't feel like you're allowed to be happy."

Well. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck Conner and his stupid fucking android logic. Hank's fingers dug into Connor's sides as he tried to find the best response to that … utter … bullshit. Completely wrong. He could be happy! He was allowed. Wasn't he? And Where the hell did Connor get off calling him Henry? No one called him that since he was in the academy. 

Hank clenched his jaw, trying desperately to think of some response that wasn't a flurry of cussing or flat denial. Part of him just wanted to push Connor off his lap and run. To order him away, to scream at how wrong he was … and then crawl into a bottle and be alone with his misery. Which only gave truth to Connor's assertion. 

He'd admitted he was depressed, Suicidal. Casually, almost cheerfully. Barely wanting to be alive had been his normal for so long, he didn't know how to handle anything else anymore. He recalled telling Connor explicitly that he wanted to die, but didn't have the balls to do it properly, so he'd been doing it slowly. 

But now? He hadn't quit drinking, for various reasons, but he'd been tapering off somewhat. Drinking more out of boredom or to escape his budding feelings for Connor than to drown himself in abject grief. Drinking less heavily when he did. He still grieved, he missed his son with an ache that would never, ever leave him. But that ache wasn't all he was anymore, was it? There were more things creeping into his life. Things that were at the very least, worth not dying for. 

The biggest of which seemed very irritated with him right now. He began to try and put his thoughts into some kind of coherent order.

"I don't know how to be any other way anymore," he finally said, so lost in his own spiral of thoughts and emotions that he wasn't aware how much time had passed. 

And Connor looked just the same, his too-human face relaxed, eyes soft and patient, his hands resting lightly on Hank's shoulders as he waited for him to sort things out in his own head. "I don't really know how to be any kind of a way," Connor murmured quietly, his hands moving to caress Hank's neck.

That surprised Hank. He'd assumed that Connor was just … Connor. That he was comfortable being how and what he was. Had he been that wrong? Had his partner been running on a kind of autopilot, too? He gazed at Connor's eyes and saw someone who maybe, in his own way, was just as lost as Hank was.

"Maybe we can figure it out together?" Connor suggested.

That … sounded better than Hank trying to get his head out of his ass all by himself. He nodded, not trusting his voice any further right now. 

Thankfully, he didn't have to, because Connor let Hank pull him closer and just press his face against that smooth, warm chest and feel his - Hank didn't care what it pumped, it was his fucking heart - beating slow and steady. A slightly different cadance to a human, one beat instead of two, but he found he liked it. It was Connor, not some random human. His Connor.

**Author's Note:**

> They both have a long way to go before things are forever happy, but they've taken the first few steps and they can be the most important. Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> Edit: Since this has come up a few times: Hank is commonly a short-form of Henry. It's possible that Hank is his actual legal name, but seems more likely to me that it's actually Henry. Connor uses Henry specifically to get Hank's attention.


End file.
